coma blog

2009-02-03T14:42:00.000-08:00

The door shuts. Dr. Cherry pie.

"Well, how's my soldier doing?"

There is a slight wind. Is there an open window?

"How long have you been here now... 8 months?"

She is wearing her lab coat, but it is buttoned from the bottom up... except for a few at the top... is her coat long, or her dress short? Her eyes, they.. they are fixed to mine. They are saying something.

"Hmm. That's what I thought."

The wind picks up, and her hair dances slightly across her shoulders. She is walking toward the foot of my bed... hot electricity, sweet Jesus. The wind blows harder, and some papers flutter out the window... a machine budges... tubes swing.

"You must get pretty lonely cooped up in here."

Red lips, dripping sugar. She undoes a few more buttons at the top of her lab coat, and it spreads left and right. She puts her hands on either side of my legs, and lifts one knee to the bed, then the other. A gust of wind pulls through her coat, unbuttoning it all the way down her belly. Her breasts hang like mission bells, her skin glowing a burning gold. More papers are sucked out the window. A machine falls over. She crawls a few more inches.

"Here.."

Tubes and lines and wires flail all around me-- red and green and blue and yellow and white liquids spill into open air, and are pulled into a mist, or weave across the floor, up the wall and out the window. Her hair pushes and pulls and tears. There is a skeleton beneath the wallpaper....

"... I..."

A cabinet pulls from out of the wall, and on it there is a dark head, black and red and brown. A tube whips around my arm and cinches it to a rail. A few wires snake around my leg and thick tubes rise from either side of me and bind me across my stomach, neck, and forehead. Sound it's self is sucked away, and Dr. Chery Pie's face starts to tear, from inside and out, her skin flaking away like ashes. Her gaze is constant, but her eyes have been replaced with dark, empty, holes. The head on the cabinet opens it's mouth, and gives a voice to wind.

WWWWWWAAAAAASSSSSSHHHHHHEEEEEEHHHHHH

The demon Cherry Pie rattles, and slowly drops it's jaw, lined with pointed teeth, and filled with.... blacker blacks, darker darks.. a cave outlined with cherry sauce and glass knives, displacing and placing and uncertain and back to displacement.

"COME"

It leaps forward, and there is nothing.

The boys are ready. I am ready. I bring my lips together and press my tongue to my teeth. This is what this is for.

here she stalks the grave of washeh, the tail to death her self, we wasted lived in wicked moores, and fell from all twas felt,

2009-01-22T23:20:00.000-08:00

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Welcome to the Hotel California
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2009-01-22T23:19:00.000-08:00

"Eventually... we all die."

There are sirens. Fire. She chuckles and ashes spew from her mouth. She lifts a glowing orange and red sphere in the palm of her hand to a pair of gray pursed lips, bleeding tar in webs around her arm and neck, and dripping from her elbow and chin. She brings her mouth around the fiery monstrosity in her palm, and sucks in, collapsing into a skeleton, skin folding into crevices between bone, but ballooning two withered jet black sacks underneath transparent flesh into swirling pillows of smoke and ash, bigger and bigger and.... she stops and turns her head back toward me. Black dust and gas twirl from out her nostrils as she pokes out her lips, a faint smile, and...

a cloud of smoke like dragon fire erupts and contorts and swallows the room, clawing toward me, a big black hand with searching fingers, reaching.. reaching.. and

2009-01-16T12:33:00.000-08:00

Hello banana. Hello apple. I am Orange!

2008-12-25T12:18:00.000-08:00

Cherry pie.

"Not bad Roger! If you weren't a nurse, you might have been an excellent barber."
"Thanks doc. I try."
"I know you do"

She is cradling a clip board, and looking at me... looking me over. At this distance, she radiates a certain warmth, a golden blanket and a soft sweetness, a taste on the tip of my tongue. There is something intimately comfortable about her closeness... but as her eyes meet mine, they shine beams of erotic revelry into empty places and fill every nerve in my body with a charge of static, and friction, and silk. I am blinded, yet she smiles.

thupthupthupthupthupthupand is gone.

Somewhere in a place far far away, someone says "Yikes... better change this out."

2008-12-07T23:48:00.000-08:00

That sound again. thup thup thup thup thup
The door is partially open. The sound is steady, but is getting louder and louder... No. Closer and closer.
thup thup thup with a screech on each syllable, like the blood scream of a hawk as it descends on it's prey-- but is stopped, and started again, over and over, the prey paralyzed, over and over, as its pupils move skyward, contracting and absorbing feather and claw and scream. thup thup thup thup thup thup thup

Through the crack, four wheels and two green scrub-legs pass by and fade further and further into some place opposite from which they originated.

Exhale... exhale? Why can't I exhale? If I can't exhale... how.. can.. I ..hyper-venti...

The room has changed, and I am still suffoca.."They got one on us!" *beep beep beep beep THUP THUP THUP THUP THUP THUP static
Everything and everyone is moving... shaking.. displacing and placing and uncertain and back to displacement bending metal over plastic over smoke over flesh opening pores and liquid and fiery seizure and turning and falling and there are pieces leaving and replaced by bigger pieces that are coming, fast.

There is a head on the counter, and even through the smoke, and the dark, I see white eyes, and red blood, and while all the world has fallen to silent reverie, i can still hear it whisper.

w...w..... washeh

murder history

2008-11-30T19:50:00.000-08:00

I... I must be looking at a picture. I see two feet. I see two legs. I see.. tubes... wires.. finger tips

Today on Soldier of Time, we explore Ancient Civilization- ruins, books, transparent artifacts on transparent actors - Ancient Wars - fire, smoke, red marble and fat men with woven crowns - And Ancient WARRIORS - sword on sword, blood on blood, corpse on corpse and the smoke is still burning, people still screaming

"Hey... you OK?"

He looks at me as if he is both empathetic and revolted by my apparent weakness at the same time. He must be aware of the slightly condescending ring in his voice, because he looks at the corpses too, as if he expects to see what I see... what he used to see. Nothing changes, and he is impatient.

"You better get your shit together, or you're gonna end up just like...", he isn't sure, "...That. Seriously man. You know what they say. You can check out...

...they used brutal tactics, forcing the Spanish forces to retreat to the river, cutting off their exit, and surrounding them on either side.............. Meow meow meow meow meow meow meow CAT FOOD! Meeeeeow!....Has this ever happened to you? Try UltraClean!

2008-11-24T21:02:00.000-08:00

when we were ants we were free/unified in soulless solace/programmed to receive

Robin Hood and The

2008-11-12T20:46:00.000-08:00

forest is quiet. Quiet as a whisper. I lay one foot in front of the other, arching my toes to roll into each step through the thick molted gold and red leaves. A bird calls. Three times. A bird named little Moses, letting me know that all my Merry Men are in position. A second sound: the sound of clopper cloppering hooves. thup thup thup thup thup thup...

There is a rustle above and I spring. By the time I have landed seven feet to the front of me and turned around and up, my right hand has drawn an arrow from the quiver over my left shoulder and notched it, my left arm has raised the bow from my side to squarely down the line of my nose, and my right arm has pulled the string back behind my head. Then I look.

"This ought to be good" said Oak. I relax, then remember why I was tip toeing just moments earlier. I scold the tree.

"Sshhh.... what are you doing here?" He chuckles and leaves fall, indifferent to my obvious anxiety.

"She sent me to look after you."
"Who?" More laughter, deeper, heavier, and leaves fall like rain.
"You know who."

thupthupthupthupHorses.

1 Steel clad crusaders. Armor.. thick. Weaponry... classic.
4 Purple mercenaries. Silk embroidered over leather. Very fine. 2 swords a head... a buckler.. and a crossbow at the ready.
3 Heaps of rusty metal. These ones have faces... and handsome expressions. God bless you.
Wagon... Wagon...
7 keen eyed archers, a dark hawk sewed to yeoman's shoulders.
1 more ... Sheriff? He is a black spot in a gold forest, surrounded by amber and crimson and rich brown and purple silk, hugging the tail of the train like death her self.

The boys are ready. I am ready. I bring my lips together and press my tongue to my teeth. This is what this is for.

..... it always ends here.

Journal 2

2008-10-18T21:08:00.000-07:00

I read a story once in the news. There was a man, and an avalanche. This particular avalanche was bigger than this particular man. They said that most people who die in avalanches die just a few inches below the snow, because the avalanche is so disruptive that once a person is buried, they no longer know where is up and down and left and right-- they don't know which direction to dig. Then they suffocate.

2008-09-03T16:06:00.000-07:00

She is here before she is here, like a cloud before the rain. The air is different. It is thicker. stuffy. foggy. Hardly air at all anymore, just smoke, and she is hardly anything less than a silhouette, and a glowing red ember. The smoke speaks.

"I had a son like you once" and the congested giggle of an old witch.
"I gotta say though, he was a bit more lively." smoke born into smoke and the shadow sets an elbow at its hip-- wrist supinated and fingers slyly poised, contracted to hold and to keep fire in the eye of her demon.
She sighs and a worm of rouge smoke gets lost in the fog.
"Not by much though."

Her stare is black, but there is a resonance in her voice that paints squinting eyes and a soft mask of yellow skin, hanging from a mouth that is mostly pout, but partly distorted by teeth softly griping the inside of her cheek. The fog is still, as she is still, moments into moments.

Murder Mystery

2008-08-19T14:33:00.000-07:00

Sergeant... you're going to want to see this. Yikes. Multiple head wounds huh? That's rare. looks like The Perp used some sort of jagged object to make the insertions. Zoom. Sergent looks at private. Looks like he was just too Metal OR i guess it's true: You can check out, but you can never leave. Meow meow meow meow meow meow meow CAT FOOD! Meeeeeow! ..... Safe.. reliable... Army of One! Daniels, would you run this sample by CDC, see if you get any matches.Yes sir. Thanks.. oh.. hows your sister? She is doing OK... the accident was traumatic for her. I can understand that. Tell her if she needs anything, she can call me. Sergeant! Whats on your mind Skanks? Well, me and Gomez ran a powder party on the CS again... and we came across some things we missed the first time. Huh... looks like the murderer wasn't the stabbing kind.. looks like he was more of the..... kind.... joke... commercials.

I am not sure if I can't feel my legs, or my legs can't feel me. I would ask, but that's silly.

Door break!
*sigh... looks all clear. Gomez, you take the kitchen, Skanks, I want you in the bedroom, and I will take the back yard. Time to get dirty. smug grin. Meow meow meow weow weow...

thup thup thup thup thup thup

2008-08-13T18:17:00.000-07:00

2008-08-03T10:59:00.000-07:00

"Roger"
"Yes Dr. Langley?"
"When is the last time you moved the patient for bed sore relief?"
"Yesterday before I left at four, mam."
"Very good. Would you mind running down to the cafeteria and grabbing me a juice?"

Her hands moved instinctively to her hips, expecting pockets, but instead her fingers glided down the side of a polyester blend skirt... pocket-less, as skirts come. A faint grin brought corners to curves, and made a freshly baked croissant covered in cherries-- from an infant slab of dough... covered in cherries.

"Oh... here we go.." as her fingers came to remember that the true location of loose change was in fact in a corner at the bottom of a book sized pocket, in a Doctor Woman sized lab coat. Roger took the change dutifully, and left the room with a buck twenty five and a mission.

2008-08-03T03:32:00.000-07:00

Dark head and dark meanings. Night is lighter than it used to be, revealing too much... No longer a shadow, it is Established. Thank god for blank eyes.. or eyes that are lost in lines inequitable to mine. It whispers now
w....w..ww...wa....
wa........ww...w..........w....
..wwwa.wa...w..w.wwww......w..wa...wa..

Longer nights, darker darks.

Robin Hood and

2008-07-21T16:55:00.000-07:00

The forest is quiet. Quiet as a deer before the SURPRISE! of a surprise birthday party. I lay one foot in front of the other, arching my toes to roll into each step through the thick forest carpet. A bird calls. Twice. A bird named little Moses, letting me know that all my Merry Men are in position. A second sound: the sound of clopper cloppering hooves. thup thup thup thup thup thup... quite as a cricket at first, then boisterous as a bullfrog, then hungry like a pack of dogs on Reynard himself, then.. like horses. Horses pulling wagons pulling greasy plump pears and privileged peacock feathers, led and followed by men of the worst kind: good men, with bad jobs, and sharp swords.

1 Steel clad crusader. Armor.. thick. Weaponry... classic.
2 Purple mercenaries. Silk embroidered over leather. Very fine. 2 swords a head... a buckler.. and a crossbow at the ready.
2 Heaps of rusty metal. These ones have faces... and handsome expressions. God bless you.
Wagon... Wagon.
4 keen eyed archers, a peregrine falcon sewed to yeoman's shoulders.
1 more ... Sheriff? He is a black spot in a green forest, surrounded by silver and crimson and green and purple silk, hugging the tail of the train like death her self.

The boys are ready. I am ready. I bring my lips together and press my tongue to my teeth. This is what this is for.

.... it always ends here.

2008-07-07T01:03:00.000-07:00

Yesterday it wasn't there... today it is. It sits on the cabinet opposite the room of my bed... or i think it sits. Do shadows sit?

2008-07-05T11:23:00.000-07:00

the door cracked and light came through the windows to lather dumbing static with a buttery radiation. The smell was sweet: a perfume maybe? no. a musky sweetness that sticks to the wall paper in gray clouds and to lungs in black paste and lives inside royally trimmed boxes and that house-- her house. 4 gray fingers wrap around the door and the devil walks in without even making eye contact. Now, a glowing orange stub, she sucks it out and her cheecks sink in and there, there is a skeleton beneath the wall paper, breaths out a cloud (one could almost see the forked tongue), and snaps the cigarette into the vinyl of the seat next her. Fire and plastic. the toxins snake into one another across my feet, across machines, and into disappointingly tangible (while seemingly passable) window panes.

"Shit", creaks the hag. "They really did a number on you, didn't they?"

My leg is asleep, i think.

2 pasty glowing logs protrude from gray wallpaper rags, two Black bricks of "welcome to walmart" shoes for women for walking for not enough money. A renewed sweetness is ushered in as she lights another cigarette, her fingers slipping only once in a failure to master the green plastic corner store lighter. I watched, amused by 1) the cruel indulgence that set sculpture to her eyebrows, sucking in.. sucking in, 2) how on exhale, her face would wilt into satisfaction, and her eyes would open and see the sunlight, as if it held new meaning, and 3) a turn from satisfaction to remembering that the satisfaction could only be extended, or renewed, by another inhale, and a twitch of desperation as she concentrated on drawing her fingers, then her wrist, then her arm, into a habitual twist, and landing that paper, god, the paper, back to those jaws. suck the blood again, live immortal, again.

Eventually this one too is reduced into a similar glowing stub, and further reduced into ashes and toxic plastic fumes, not three inches from the other. Again she wrapped her fingers around the doors pages, but this time, I was acknowledged with a slight smile that either had something to do with secrets, or exposure.

Journal 1

2008-07-05T10:03:00.000-07:00

Today I awoke to find myself in a state of suspended unconsciousness. I have been meaning to do this for a while now, but you know... there is always some excuse. I really don't have any excuses now. Just time.